"You're so sweet," he whispered.
She smiled pitifully at him and said, "Rest. Just rest. I feel so sorry for you."
In fact, imposed upon the excitement which the pressure of his head against her aroused, was a feeling of Samaritan pity. However, she wondered without displacing this emotion of altruistic concern for the young man, how far she dared go. She wished that his hands would touch her but they would have to stand up for that.
"Oh!"
She moved Keegan's head gently away.
"I thought I heard someone."
Slipping to her feet she stared eagerly toward the door. Keegan straightened himself. He looked at her drowsily.
"It's no one," she smiled. Her eyes covered him with tender interest. He thought of some picture of a saint—Saint Cecelia or someone like that.
"Why don't you go up in George's room?" she asked.
She gave him her hand as if to assist him in a comradely way to rise. He stood up slowly.